Well, this is the week I have been dreading for a while (feels like forever) - my son is graduating high school this Sunday. Sounds cliche, but it seems like yesterday you were a terror running through my house with your "action figures". Where, oh where, has the time gone? I was 19 when I had you, so basically i was just a baby myself. We have grown up together, and you are so much a part of me that it scares me. You will be on your own soon. I once had a friend tell me, "You love your daughter, but you are in love with your son". How true that is. You are my soul. On that note, I'll tell you a secret (not really a secret) but I got a tattoo this past weekend. It is a tattoo for my son, who is truly my soul. I'll post a photo soon so you can see it. It is just my way of signifying the importance of this little boy in my life. Not so little anymore, you tower over me at 6'1", but always my little boy.
Big black eyes, curly dark brown hair, flooding my kitchen at age 3 because he sat on my kitchen counter, played with my cooking spices, tried to clean it up, and clogged my sink with paper towels, water flowing everywhere, at least a 1/2" across my kitchen floor, all in the span of 10 minutes of me doing laundry.
My little boy locking himself in the bathroom, passing cookies and his "nighnie" under the bathroom door, climbing the ladder to the 2nd floor window only to discover that the lock was broken, now locked in the bathroom with my son, now come the cigarettes under the bathroom door.
My little boy winning the title of "home run king", slugging the ball so far it rolled to the fence next to the freeway, earning a reputation that year of the "slugger", being intentionally walked at each at-bat during the championship game, watching his sad face cuz he wasn't allowed to slug one out, watching his proud face cuz he knew they were afraid of him slugging one out.
My baby boy playing football for the Eagles, the roar of the crowd, the excitement of a saturday night football game, watching the eagles win again and again, seeing him standing tall and strong on the o-line - Go Big O!!!". Heartbreak over not going all the way, even greater heartache dreading those cold november evenings at home with no ball game to go to, remembering those glory days.
My little boy cranking the music, shaking the house, amp turned up loud, amazing me with his talent on the guitar, never once complaining to turn it down, letting it drown out the tv and my phone calls, always marveling at the talent pounding up from the bedroom or basement.
My little boy, watching him from afar, in and out, in and out, please be careful son, don't get trampled in the mosh pit, sitting at the top of the hill, crazy metal music echoing off the trees at blossom, trying to catch a glimpse, there's his curly hair, wait, there he goes back into the pit, day is long. Tired, sweaty, bruised, and bleeding they emerge from the pit, join me at the top of the hill, smiling through the mud and the bruises, "that was awesome, did u see me nail that kid, mom? We need water bad, wait, I like this song, I'm goin in again". Back they go, flowing with the crowd, music pumping. 3 years on the sidelines at Ozzfest, long, slow, boring days, but I'd do it every summer for another 3 years, just to have those moments again.
My little boy, not so little anymore, take what I have taught you, stay strong, do well, make yourself proud, follow your heart, be kind to others, stay safe, find love, live life, and never forget you are my son, my love, my soul.
Congratualtions. Happy graduation. Proud is such a small word with such a big meaning. I am truly blessed to have you in my life, you are a gift sent from god to give me a lifetime of joy, happiness, love, and wonder.
I love you stevie.